


You are family

by vulcanplomeeksoup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Comfort Food, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanplomeeksoup/pseuds/vulcanplomeeksoup
Summary: Hannibal and Will celebrate their first Christmas together with a new family member in an unexpected way after the fall. A Christmas gift/fluff fic to @ brokendeathangel for the Hannibal Holiday Exchange :D





	You are family

**Author's Note:**

> A gift to @ brokendeathangel for the Hannibal Holiday Exchange. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Will has taken in a stray, despite Hannibal's weak protest. 

He found the abandoned old dog wandering the beach, weak and alone. Old habits die hard. Hannibal knows that sooner or later Will would want a dog. As a matter of fact Hannibal has mentally prepared himself for the addition to their newly established life in this charming little house by the sea.

Their 'little house by the sea' is not little at the slightest. Will's jaw dropped when Hannibal parked the car for the first time on the spacious driveway of the luxury Italian-style villa in Puerto Andratx. The villa is a five bedroom villa with spectacular views over the bay of Andratx. It's not too far from the beach, nor is it from the shore where Will's boat is moored. There is a port nearby where Hannibal enjoys buying fresh fish directly from fishermen in the evenings.

Hannibal watches Will leading the dog to the bathtub for a quick groom with a neutral expression. Leaning against the door frame to the guest bathroom, Hannibal sighs.

“Presence of a dog will cause inconvenience, Will. We’re still in hiding, theoretically speaking.” He doesn’t hold back his dismay, but also he can’t suppress a minute amused grin pulled at his thin lips as he watches Will lathering, rinsing the trembling mutt with utmost tenderness. 

Hannibal looks at the dog; He understands why Will can’t let this dog go. The dog has a pleasing outlined head with neatly folded ears and a good expression, but most importantly, the mutt bears striking similarities to the appearance of Will's old dog Winston. 

There is something almost akin to jealousy in the look he gives the dog. Hannibal wonders that perhaps Will is never going to let his old life go entirely just for him after all; But then, Hannibal knows well that collecting dogs means more than an obsession to Will; Will always associate with the idea of family, so if Will is taking a dog home that he now shares with Hannibal, does it mean that Will is ready to establish a new family here with Hannibal? 

Family. What a peculiar concept.

"Hiding, _in plain sight_." Will corrects him. “Look. He won't cause any trouble, I promise."

While Hannibal follows through the trains of thought that are running through his mind, the wet dog looks up at Hannibal innocently and tilts its head; Hannibal feels a fondness in his chest that shouldn’t be there.

“Please?” Will adds. 

Hannibal’s greatest weakness right now is definitely his inability to say no to his dear Will. 

The dog is going to stay. 

A pretentiously long pause in order to empathise his disapproval of Will’s decision, then Hannibal asks, “Does _he_ have a name?” 

"...Not yet." Will replies. Surprised and confused, he looks up at Hannibal with a frown and a half smile. “Wait. You, um, you want to name him?”

Hannibal considers. "We can name him Encephalitis." He suggests with a smirk, delighted to see Will's horrified reaction. 

After a lengthy debate, they finally settle on a simple name, ‘Dante’. 

Just when Will let go of the dog’s fur and turns to fetch a towel, the dog shakes vigorously to get rid of the moisture out of instinct, thus splashing water in all directions, including on the brand new shirt of Hannibal’s. Will chuckles darkly and gives Dante a gentle pat when he sees the pained expression on Hannibal's face. Dreading his wet shirt as well as the mess that is wet dog fur on the bathroom floor, Hannibal clicks his tongue in dismay and leaves quickly to fetch his cleaning supplies.

Cannibal pun aside, Hannibal wasn't lying when he said he has no taste for animal cruelty. From the black swans and horse of his childhood, to Will's herd of dogs and farm animals at crime scene, the strange truth is the cannibal has always been fond of animals. But his fondness for animals does not make it easier for him to get use to living with one. 

Hannibal's obsessive need for cleanliness and constant complaint of dog hair and smell gives Will serious headache because he has already tried his very best to keep the enormous living space as clean and as hygienic as possible. Will begins to find Hannibal's frustration hilarious to watch. When Hannibal points out the hair on their designer furnitures, or in the soup, Will just gives him an exaggerated shrug and a raise of eyebrows, followed by a suppressed grin. _Reckoning._ The long-due reckoning had come for him at last, Will muses to himself. 

At first, Hannibal acts like he’s more comfortable keeping a distance from the dog; There seems to be an air of dread around him whenever Will spends time with Dante, which Will finds puzzling and rather childish; Then about a month into their life living together under the same roof, Will notices a change. 

It's a beautiful morning on precisely the day of Christmas Eve, the horizon has been dyed orange and blue by an eerie incoming storm, casting a bizarre warm glow in the living room through a wall of crystal clear glass windows. 

Will returns from the market to find Hannibal fast asleep on the lambskin couch with a copy of an early edition Julia Child cookbook clutched tightly against his chest; His hair is unusually tousled, his face peaceful but pale, seems older than when he's awake…yet the most curious thing of all is the sleeping dog curling up against the man. 

Dante is resting his head and front paws affectionately on the slowly rising and falling abdomen of Hannibal’s, and Hannibal has fallen asleep with him. It's one of those rare moments in life that one would never forget; Will knows he will never forget this sight. 

A twitch of the dog's nose and a stir of Hannibal in his sleep indicate that both the man and the dog are woken by Will's presence. Dante rises immediately and greets Will with excited whines and franticaally wagging tail. Hot, wet tongue attacks Will’s face aggressively as the man kneels to greet the dog. 

A sudden loud sneeze startles both Will and the dog. Hannibal opens his eyes and struggles to sit up; His deep set eyes blink once, twice, and his vision clears just in time to see Will offering him a teacup with hot water. 

“Hello, Will.” Hannibal says with a soft cough, his throat feels tight and sore. He takes the cup gratefully, sipping quickly on the soothing warmth. “Thank you.” He looks up at Will as if he’s a miracle or angel from heaven having just materialised in his living room; His eyes linger on Will’s face, on the scar from the Great Red Dragon’s knife, a moment too long. 

Extending his hand, Hannibal can’t help but traces the pale scar with his knuckles, the gesture impossibly gentle and tender, almost like as if he’s worshiping it. 

_Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real._ Hannibal remembers vividly how cold Will’s skin felt under his fingers as he stitched Will’s wound up after they’ve survived their fall. It’s strange how time can seem to move so fast on some occasions and so slow on others, Hannibal reflects. So much have happened that it feels as if years should have gone by, but in reality it had taken merely about a year since their fall into the sea. 

The coming Christmas is Hannibal and Will’s first Christmas together. It’s supposed to be special, even though Hannibal is hardly religious by any standard. Hannibal has their Christmas dinner menu planned out since weeks ago; And yet, here he is, fallen prey to something as common - and as nasty- as a cold; It’s a particularly annoying cold; A cold that is severe enough to prevent Hannibal from getting up to cook; As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Hannibal feels miserable. 

He feels miserable, and disappointed. Hannibal has his own strange view on things happen in life; He may feel miserable at times, but he never lets his emotion show in the past, however, not right now. Right now he is with Will; Right now there is no need to hide anymore; So Hannibal lets his emotions surface on his face.

It’s a very subtle change in Hannibal’s expression, but Will notices it almost immediately; He stares at the hint of sad, childish pout on Hannibal’s lips with disbelieve. 

Hannibal Lecter, pouting; It’s frankly a little hilarious; It’s hilarious but at the same time a little worrying. It’s not the first time Hannibal has fallen ill during the year; His immune system apparently has suffered due to his recovery from all his injuries, and unavoidable stress that comes from being fugitive on the run. 

Will instinctively reaches out and touches Hannibal’s forehead with the back of his hand, feeling if the fever is still there. "You feel very warm. Are you sure you're alright? The meds you took don’t seem to be working.“ 

Hannibal tenses, and Will retracts his hand immediately as if he’s done something discourteous. It’s such a simple gesture, nothing calculated, yet the intimate touch makes Hannibal’s heart unnervingly flutter at the sight because it’s the first time someone whom he cares for in return shows him genuine mutual affection. 

Before Will, Hannibal has never let anybody _see_ him, let alone in such a vulnerable state. He’s uncomfortable to be seen, but yet, he craves to be seen by Will.

“It's hardly a scientific way to check for a fever, my dear Will,” Hannibal says with a low coarse voice as he put the teacup down. “I assure you what I need right now is only rest. There is nothing to worry about, but I appreciate your concern.”

Will huffs a laugh. “What do you want me to do with the food?”

Will gestures at the big box that he has just dragged into the house from the car (and one that Dante is sniffing with extra enthusiasm at the moment). The box contains an assortment of fresh fruits, vegetables, cheese, seafood and meat; They are ingredients Hannibal ordered from a friend at the market a month in advance just for their first Christmas dinner. 

“What do you want to do with the food?” Hannibal asks in return.

Will sighs, he looks at the food, imagines how Hannibal would cook them, transforming them into an exquisite banquet. He realises he has no idea what to do with them.

“You want me to cook for you?” Will’s eyes widen.

“Yes.” Hannibal admits, “I’m curious what you would make. I’m curious what you would make for me.”

“If you get your hopes up too high disappointment falls down harder.” Will warns. 

Hannibal gives Will a shrug and an expectant expression that looks rather amused, smug even. Will finds that expression uncharacteristically…charming. It’s quite fascinating, the way Hannibal gets wrinkles around his eyes…Will shakes his head, and distracts himself by thinking about Christmas.

Christmas. Will has never actually enjoyed celebrating Christmas. It’s not a festival he celebrates religious-wise, nor family-wise. Much like family, Christmas is a not concept that Will can ever fully relate to, not even when he put up the tree and decorations around the house for Molly, for Wally back then. 

Turning away, Will walks towards the window and runs his hand through the leaves of the beautiful tree standing by it. Hannibal has just finished decorating the Christmas tree on the day he caught a cold. There are antlers interlaced with the blue spruce branches in a most artistic way, surrounded by golden and red garlands, together with tons of elegant glass ball ornaments. Will breathes deeply, taking in the piney aroma of evergreen. It’s a lovely scent that he’d treasure in his memory palace, in a room that he’s going to specifically create in his mind just for this Christmas. 

From his pocket, Will takes out a small deer-shaped Christmas tree ornament, one that he has bought _impulsively_ from the market. It’s an adorable deer painted over with black paint, resembling very much the strange stag that he always sees in his mind in association with Hannibal, in association with Abigail. 

“Merry Christmas, Abigail.” Will whispers under his breath. 

He has no idea why he felt the urge to buy it, but he wants the Stag figure to be here, here on the Christmas tree in their living room; A small part of Will imagines a fate where Abigail is still alive here with Hannibal and him, celebrating Christmas together. In this instant, it almost feels like his family has come back together like a broken teacup. 

Hannibal lay back down on the couch; His gaze fixed on Will’s fingers and the deer ornament with a thoughtful expression; Listening to the distant sound of a quiet stream in his mind, he eventually drifts off back into a comfortable, shallow sleep. 

Dante wants to join Hannibal on the couch once again, but Will clicks his tongue and stops him. The man needs his undisturbed rest. Will watches Hannibal’s sleeping face, listening to the odd, almost endearing cat-like snoring noises that he makes.

It's amazing how much trust Hannibal has in Will now, he’s trusted Will enough to fall asleep before him just like that, in his most vulnerable state. Look how far they’ve come along. Will has never, ever imagined having such an intimate, peaceful moment with the cannibal. _We are just alike. You are as alone as I am. We are both alone without each other._ Fortunately, they are no longer alone because right now all they have is each other.

Shaking his head, Will unfolds a soft merino wool throw, then carefully drapes it over the sleeping man. The soft snoring stops for a moment, but Hannibal doesn’t stir. 

—

Aroma of food in the air wakes Hannibal up from a feverish dream of freezing winter, fireflies, and Mischa’s bloody handprint. 

Dante is immediately by Hannibal’s side as his consciousness resurfaces; Cold, wet nose sniffs his face nervously, uttering an urgent, worried whine.

“You’re awake.” Hannibal seems to hear Will’s distant voice says.

A cozy warmth hits, and Hannibal opens his watery eyes. It’s completely dark outside the window and temperature has dropped considerably. Hannibal can hear a fierce wind blowing along the coast with screaming noises. Hannibal is glad that Will has already lit a fire in the fireplace. 

Fragrance of coffee and stew permeates the room; Hannibal tilts his face up, his fogged mind is sluggish and slow but as his nose takes in the scent of food in the air, his brain immediately begins identifying the ingredients in it on its own. 

Dante jumps onto the couch and nuzzles Hannibal’s hand as the man sits up slowly, carefully; Feeling an ache in his muscle and along his spine, Hannibal quietly assesses the condition of his own body as he folds the wool blankets into a neat square out of habit before draping it back on the shoulder of the couch. He is feeling much better now, although his head remains impossibly heavy with a low throb. This level of discomfort is easily bearable for the man if he wanted it to be.

Hannibal’s pale eyelashes flutter and the man lowers his eyes. A coffee carafe and a mug is already waiting for him on the low table next to the couch. Gratefully, Hannibal pours himself a cup and sips on the scalding hot black coffee. The coffee smells like home, like something solid, warm, safe.  

“How are you feeling?” 

Hannibal turns his head towards Will’s voice. “The fever has gone down, and I’m feeling much better. How long have I been asleep for?”

“It’s almost six.” Will answers. “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something? Dinner is, um, dinner is ready.”

“Yes, Will.” The corner of Hannibal's lips quirks up in what Will takes as a broad smile. “I’d love to have dinner now.”

If he can’t cook today, at least he should set the table. Graceful like a cat, Hannibal swings his legs and uses the momentum to move his aching body. Hannibal looks around the carpeted floor for his leather slippers, only to find that they’re gone. Dante must have stolen them again.

“No, no, no, Hannibal.” Will stops Hannibal from getting up by placing a gentle palm on his chest. Hannibal looks up at Will, puzzled. “Wait, right here.”

Hannibal tilts his head and licks his lips as he watches Will hurries back to the kitchen, then after a brief while, Will returns with two large soup bowls on a serving tray. Will carefully set the tray of food on the low table. The smell of food wafts through the air and Hannibal feels his stomach growls in response.

“It’s um, it’s a little awkward for us to have this at the table, so…” Will explains. The two bowls of food would look pathetically ridiculous on Hannibal’s grand mahogany dining table, Will prefers them to eat it this way, together in the living room. 

Dante has already ate, so he retreats to his favourite place on the rug next to the fireplace and quietly watches his two dads eat.

Will put one of the bowls in Hannibal’s hand, making sure he holds it well in his palms, then hands him a spoon. 

“Well, um, Bon Appétit…” Will says nervously as he sits down on an armchair opposite Hannibal with his own bowl.

“It smells wonderful.” Hannibal comments.

“Because you have a stuffy nose.” Will points out. “It’s, um, it’s nothing as good as your chicken soup, just a cajun gumbo that my father used to make for me, some chicken, some sausage, and um, vegetable and rice.”

Hannibal stares at Will’s flushed cheeks, feeling his eyes water up on their own; He feels emotions stir within him and he quickly stifles them as much as he can; It must be the sickness that is making him so vulnerable to his own emotions. Without hesitation, Hannibal scoops up a piece of chicken and rice together with a little soup, then raises the spoon to his mouth. It tastes _divine_. 

Perhaps it tastes so good because it is something Will properly cooks for him and especially for the first time. Hannibal closes his eyes in bliss. His tongue has tasted the best but nothing felt as hearty and warm as this simple bowl that Will makes for him. The rich soup is not the most flavourful, naturally, but it instantly warms Hannibal up from the inside out, a wonderfully satisfying comfort food for fighting off winter colds, and his flu. 

“Your father made this for you when you were little? When you were unwell?” Hannibal asks after he has swallowed the bite, savouring the taste on his tongue.

“Yes.” 

“Does remaking this dish bring back memories of your childhood?”

“Sort of. A little.” Will laughs, his uneasiness apparent. “Is it, um- How was it?”

“It’s wonderful, Will.” Hannibal answers with all honesty. “Thank you.”

“Um, ok, good.” Will gives Hannibal a nod and looks away. He can never get used to receiving praise of any sort; He looks a little embarrassed, even in the dimly lit interior; A faint blush slowly creeps on the man's cheeks, tinging them in a rosy shade, Hannibal gazes at him with open affection.

The two men eat in comfortable silence together in front of the fireplace, spoonful by spoonful, until their bowls are both empty. Will swiftly put the dishes away back into the kitchen. When he returns, he finds Hannibal sitting on the couch in the same place in the exact same spot, except that he now has two wrapped presents on his lap.

“Really?” A grin and frown break on Will’s face, and Hannibal nods. “Are we supposed to exchange gifts? What is it? Because I don't have—”

“It’s entirely fine, my dear Will.” Hannibal assures him, then hands him the larger of the two presents. “I didn't expect anything from you in return. Merry Christmas.”

Will takes the delicately wrapped present and feels the texture of the blood red wrapping paper under his fingers. He sighs, “— Because I don't have anything fancy for you.” Will finishes his sentence. From a shelf nearby, Will pulls out a gift box, and hands it to Hannibal. “Merry Christmas, Hannibal.”

Hannibal flips the neatly wrapped gift over in his hands with an undeniable glint of interest in his eyes. He prompts, “Together?” 

“Together.” Will shrugs and nods, his fingers reaching for the silky black bow. 

Upon opening their presents, they both look up and into each other’s eyes with a knowing smile. 

Hannibal has gotten Will a folding hunter knife with carbonitride titanium blade for his fishing trip, his initials elegantly engraved on the side of the handle; Will has gotten Hannibal a handcrafted Japanese slicing knife with a graceful, long and thin blade, one that Will knows Hannibal would love.

Hannibal picks up the knife from the packaging with utmost care; He runs his finger along the smooth magnolia handle, and the cold steel of the blade. He looks very pleased. 

“It’s a fantastic Yanagi, my dear Will. The beauty of its elegant thin blade is its ability to slice through an ingredient in long uninterrupted strokes, preserving its integrity and freshness and without compromising the taste and quality of the structure, unlike other knives which can damage the cell walls and alter the feel and taste.” Hannibal explains with a grin. “It’s beautiful.”

“Chiyoh said you’d like it.” Will chuckles under his breath. 

Strange, how Hannibal and Will have decided to give each other a knife. It’s almost as if in their own twisted way, they are metaphorically ready to give the other their life. Two people, vowing to basically laying down their life for each other; An unspoken but far more potent promise than love. A peculiar partnership.  

Will points at the remaining little box on Hannibal’s lap. “What’s this for?” Will asks, even though he knows exactly who the other gift is for.

Hannibal hands over the box to Will, then clicks his tongue, and Dante is by their side in an instant. Inside the jewellery box is a black leather dog collar with a gold nameplate that has Dante’s name engraved on it. Will put the collar on the very excited Dante. 

Will gives Dante a gentle pet on the back. “Merry Christmas, buddy.”

Hannibal, after a beat, reaches out his hand too and joins Will in scratching Dante’s ears. The old dog wags his tail frantically, his amber eyes looking hilarious proud, and loved. 

Will’s gaze travels from Dante to Hannibal; They are his family now, part of his heart and soul; And Will is glad that he is not alone in that feeling. 

 

\- THE END -

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr too :D [@vulcanplomeeksoup](http://vulcanplomeeksoup.tumblr.com) Come chat with me about Hannibal !


End file.
